"The Fall of the House of Oscar"

Alrighty, this excerpt needs a little bit of explaining because you'll probably be a little lost. The setup: after kicking some major demon ass, Ren (with Mason in tow) is sent to Boston to meet up with a Catholic priest named Father Darren Hoslett. He has summoned her to monitor the situation as he exorcises a house that has been possessed. The slight issue is that the demon has also started to take over the owner of the house, a self-proclaimed hermit that doesn't believe in the supernatural. We pick up right as Ren and he are about to collide. Enjoy!

Standing in the doorway, the man held his position stolidly, blocking their entrance.

"I've told you more times than I can count, Father," he said, barely stifling his anger. "There is nothing here. And I'm not coming back to Mass."

Ren had waited long enough.

"Look, what's your name?" she asked, elbowing in front of Father Darren and Mason.

He looked at her suspiciously. He couldn't have been over 35 years old, physically, but his eyes seemed ancient, like he'd already grown accustomed to old age. Even his clothes looked as if he'd inherited them directly from his 85 year old grandfather, complete with the moth ball smell.

"Oscar." He smiled wryly. "As in Oscar the Grouch."

"Alright, Oscar, just let the Father do his thing and we'll be out of your hair for good, okay?"

"And who are you?"

Ren sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. "Does it really matter?"

Oscar imitated her gesture and nodded his head.

"I'm the hired muscle. That's all you need to know." She pushed him aside with as little power as she could. Ever since she had accidentally broken a man's arm in three places, Ren had to remind herself to conserve her strength for the mystical, and it didn't look like Oscar could handle even a slight exertion of her strength. As he chased after her in protest, both Father Darren and Mason followed, each with an amused grin on their faces.

"Nothing is wrong with this house!" Oscar shouted, growing more irritated by the minute.

The entire house seemed to be decaying. The mauve striped wallpaper was starting to peel at the edges, and the wood on the floors and baseboards was rotting a slow death. It even smelled like an old-fashioned funeral home, minus the formaldehyde. A thick coat of dust covered everything, from the Victorian furniture to the vintage chandelier to the pictures hanging on the walls, as if nothing had been moved or cleaned in years, maybe decades. How long had this man lived like this?

Ren could sense the demon more strongly now than she had outside. She stared up the grand staircase leading to the second floor, trying to pinpoint the locus before heading upstairs. She ignored the annoyed complaints from Oscar, instead letting the two men of the cloth try to explain things to him. As she started to ascend the stairway, she could hear the demon telling her to leave, but the Legion just smirked. Right. With her first step, the house began to shake and moan, but only for a moment.

She turned her head towards the three men who had just a few seconds before been arguing violently and raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing's wrong?" She nodded her head towards the second story, and Father Darren quickly stooped to the duffle bag of supplies he had laid on the hardwood floor. "You can set up anywhere on up there, but I'm thinking you should probably try to find a place right there." She pointed to a place on the ceiling, and the priest nodded his head in agreement, then sprinting up the stairs with Mason close behind. Oscar glared helplessly at the two men but did not follow, apparently preferring the company of a Legion. Ren surveyed her surroundings a little more, locating exits and pointy objects that could be both helpful and deadly, basically paying no attention to the man.

"Where were you born?" he asked, his tone less harsh, if only slightly.

Without actually looking at him, Ren replied, "Biloxi. About as far south you can go on land in Mississippi, unless you count swamp as land."

He chuckled. "So that's why." She didn't bother to ask what he meant and continued casing the scene, feeling along the walls and entering into the main living room. Despite its lack of care, the house was still quite extraordinarily well preserved. The sconces looked original, and the Oriental rug in the center of the room seemed just as old. 

"See, demons - or whatever you call them - don't actually exist up here."

She stopped abruptly in front of the little-used fireplace and turned, blinking incredulously. "What, you think they can't handle the cold?"

Oscar laughed and sat in one of the chaise lounges. "You Southerners are just so superstitious. If it can't be explained in rational means, it must be the work of the devil. I don't believe in that. Northerners don't believe in that."

"Well, I don't particularly believe in making quick judgments based on faulty and prejudiced information, but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen every day," Ren snapped back, almost regretting that she was trying to keep this man safe from harm. 

A nearby cricket chirped as the two squared off, their eyes locked. Suddenly, a roar blasted from upstairs, and Ren bolted towards the staircase, praying that she wasn't too late if anything had really happened and calling for Mason.

As she was just out of earshot, Oscar whispered, "Touche." 

Okie dokie, there it is. And I'm still working on the podcast that YouTube will just not upload. Sometimes I hate technology.